Oh, to be a fly on the wall at Beckingham Palace. Picture the scene. David Beckham, Britain's official hairstyle icon, a guy who does a bit of footballing on the side, stands in front of a mirror admiring his newly crafted cut. He fancies himself as a Robert de Niro character, does David. Wants to look like that guy in Taxi Driver, you know, the psychopath who shaves most of his hair off and goes on a killing rampage.
As Victoria munches on a celery leaf, he tries out his new look. "You talkin' to me then? You flippin' talkin' to me? I don't see no one else around here," he says to his reflection, sounding as put out as his soft Essex boy drawl will allow.
It's enough to make even the hardest punk yearn for a neat central parting.
Some people are concerned that the Manchester United player is sending out a negative message to young people. Parents and teachers are holding crisis meetings as the sinister hair craze takes hold. As one tabloid helpfully included a cut-out-and-keep Mohican in honour of the cut, soccer commentators mused whether the look was one befitting a captain of a national football team.
They shouldn't be worried. In just a few days, Beckham has managed the impossible; he has made the Mohican mainstream. Traditionally the preserve of anarchists, punk rockers and Bert from Sesame Street, the two-inch tuft that stretches across the centre of his shorn head like an upended scrubbing brush is not scary at all.
Beckham stares from beneath it with friendly, puppy-dog eyes. He is wearing an earring in each ear. He is grinning, but not in a manic "I-might-kill-you" sort of way. He does not look like the type of fellow who would organise May Day riots or hang around street corners staring moodily at passers-by.
He looks as if he uses leave-in conditioner before he blow-dries the tufty strip, fashioning the ends into a slight point. But what really sounded the death knell for the Mohican as a symbol for disaffected youths everywhere was Tony Blair giving the hairstyle his seal of approval. "It looks great," he reportedly told a 17-year-old-student who was sporting the crop.
Can a haircut be deemed rebellious when the Prime Minister of England thinks it's cool? Clearly, it cannot.
Everything was fine before Becks hooked up with that Spice Girl. Back then, David had a cute, floppy blond do, and would stare out shyly from underneath his fringe. Since he met Posh, there has been a whole series of frankly disturbing scandals involving the striker and his personal, er, "style".
First there was sarong-gate, when Beckham caused a storm by wearing a skirt on his holidays. Then came thong-gate when Mrs Beckham revealed that him indoors occasionally wore her underwear. Shaving off his lovely locks was the last straw.
Those seeking to uncover the why of Beckham's constant self-reinvention, a trait he shares with other attention-grabbing celebrities such as Madonna and Geri Halliwell, are looking no further than his wife, despite the fact he insists it was all his own idea.
This theory goes that for Victoria, handsome David represents a walking, talking Ken to her fashion-victim Barbie. Much in the same way she probably took the scissors to her Barbie's hair to give them a new look when she was a young girl, she is now doing the same with her husband.
It's a laff, innit?
Well, frankly, no, it is madness and it must stop. Next thing, she will be forcing David to get his tongue and other parts of his anatomy pierced. Or experiment on him with items from her make-up box.
Before you know it, nice guy David will have championed every style taboo known to man, leaving moody teenagers with nothing to shock their parents with - except perhaps ("My goodness, young man! What have you done?") a sinister short back and sides.
